


no grave can hold my body down

by aingeal



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, I want to give these boys pure joy, M/M, Song fic, Work Song- Hozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3668625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aingeal/pseuds/aingeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spontaneous bit of happiness for Steve and Bucky written while listening to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nH7bjV0Q_44">"Work Song" by Hozier</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	no grave can hold my body down

_When my time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I’ll crawl home to you_

 

They’re outside time. They’ve been in so many times, but they get to be free of them all here. It’s not cold here, there’s no ice. There’s no pain, no electricity and no guns, not here. They arrive separately, broken and on their knees, bloodstained and bruised and beaten, but they come here freely and their minds are their own. No orders and no missions, not here. They have done their work. It is time to rest.

Soft sounds of birds or the wind in the trees, a soothing misty low light as if it’s dawn, but no time and no passing of time to trouble them. It’s warm.

Three days until they’re together, Steve is there first, he lays himself in warm moss and dreams and heals, and he knows he can wait with no fear of time and no responsibility, he has no-one to care about except himself and his baby, and his baby is coming. There’s no time, but waiting feels good, just a certain throb in his chest saying wait, wait, he is coming. He can walk in the springing moss and rustling grass and the dew will refresh his tired body, and every step in any direction will take him towards him.

Bucky has to crawl every step of the way, on his knees and on one arm, across broken glass and rocks, with fire at his back. Three days of pain, but he comes to the land of no time and soft mists, and he can rest and everything is sweet. His baby is close, he can sense him in the breathing winds and the tiny wildflowers between his fingers. He can stop here and lie and wait, he will come for him. He need not travail any more. The green smell of the earth fills his nose and heals him as he lies and fears nothing. He cries tears of fearing nothing, not time or the past or anyone, and not his baby. He need not fear his deeds; his baby won’t ask him once about the wrong he did, never would fret about what his hands and body have done. 

Stepping across no distance Steve approaches Bucky through the mist, the sense of his love leading him to him. They come together, no words needed here, no misunderstandings and no distances, no falling. Bucky raises to his knees as Steve steps up and his arms go round his waist, his cheek to his hip. Steve’s hands are in his soft clean hair. No dirt and no blood, no wars and no families, no dates and no comrades. No time has passed since they were boys and swam bare backed in the river with the sun sparkling. The mist is clearing and they are in warm sun again, heating their frozen skin and flushing their sunken cheeks. Steve sinks beside him, forehead to forehead and shoulder to shoulder. Their clear blue eyes are locked and love flows like the water of every river in the world. No graves here and nothing to stop love, trembling like a bird’s wing in the air around them, sending susurrations through the grass, lifting Bucky’s hair.

Golden light sparkles in eyelashes, gilds the bows of curving lip and noble nose, and soft kisses pass from mouth to mouth, lips warm and pressing and eager. The night covers them and the warmth of fireflies and chirrups of crickets lay them down into straw-smelling grass, over and under each other, kisses as sweet as nectar, words with no meaning but love. Whispers and promises in a world where no promise can ever be broken, where there is no promise but love.

Bare backed in the warm crackling night, they dip and swim about and within each other, mouths going hot, going slack, eyes closing. Joy rippling and cries sounding into the safety of silence and nothingness, pleasure peaking and love sanctifying pleasure. Silence is their bliss as they link hands, knot arms, press chests and legs closer than is possible, linked so nothing can ever part them, and there is nothing that could part them, here.

Dawn comes to the land with no time and covers the lovers in clear grey light, bathing them in the same light as the ocean and the dunes they lie in, Bucky’s head against Steve’s chest and his strong arm across him, the light hitting their trouble-less eyes at the same moment, and they will never be parted.


End file.
